What Remains

Chapter 29

Coyote,
What have we done?

Today is the day everything changes, for better or for worse.
My dear crossroads. A choice; a girl's violent will to survive, or this monster of irreparable longing? Damage is inevitably the same either way.
If I had gotten out earlier, easier, I would've made everything that happened into poetry. But I know better now:
The blood was never beautiful. It was just red.
It was the price of the love I never wanted, and I choked on it.
When I leave, he will love me forever, for better or for worse.
"Quinn." Kenny calls into my room.
I've chosen to change into a black turtleneck, grey plaid dress pants, and unfortunately, my mask.
Kenny has already found his, and it's hugging his face like before.
My hands grasp the end of the shirt as I slip it over my torso. He was never taught to knock, was he? "Kenny." I answer calmly, moving my hands to shift my hair over the straps of the mask.
"Let's go— we can't wait much longer." He can't wait much longer. I take Kenny's held out hand, letting him lead me to the main floor.
I stop before he can pull me outside though, making him give me his full attention. Those eyes.. They're so oddly content. Unfittingly. I feel a little sick at his concern. Like a devil.
Like a devil.
"Promise me no one else will get hurt tonight, no matter what." I say, narrowing my eyes in a sort of challenging way. I need to hear him promise that again.
"I—"
"Look me in the eyes when you say it, Kenny." I pull him a little closer by his hand.
We are in love. I want to drill my fingers into his eyes.
Kenny's eyes trail to mine. "I promise. We need to go." With a firm tug, he leads me outside.

As we near my house a familiar song begins to play on the radio. It's, well, something, but my mind can't quite grasp it.
My memory can't be that bad, could it?
"You're not mad, are you?" Before I could whisk myself away in a train of thought, Kenny grabs my attention.
"No. I'm just anxious." And not for the reasons you'll assume. I sigh, looking ahead to the familiar neighbourhood.
Kenny hums, putting his hand on my leg in a sort of reassuring way. "I told you, Quinn. You won't regret any of this." A sort of deja-vu feeling fills my senses at his words, and it's overwhelming.
"I know," I mutter, looking to the window beside me as the car slowed, "It's not that I think I'll regret visiting home— what if someone sees me? What will we do?" What if my mom really is home?
Kenny pulls over, giving a soft sigh. I expect a reply, obviously, but it never comes.
There's really not much we'd be able to do, other than..
Oh.
Oh.
"You lied to me, Kenny." I say, slightly leaning closer against the passenger seat door. I try to look at Kenny's expression but I can't see anything, his masked face is shadowed and ominous. "We are not killing anyone."
"Don't you get started with that, Valentine." Slowly, he takes his hands off of the steering wheel.
I unbuckle my seatbelt in reply.
Kenny takes a deep breath, his way of wordlessly telling me I'm being a burden. "Now is really not the time."
"No, I get a fucking say in this!" I snap, putting on a defensive front, "If I can't trust you, you're staying in this fucking car while I get what I need and come back." I reach for the doorknob, but before I can open the door...
Kenny locks the car.
"Kenny."
"You're not leaving me. You're not going alone."
"Unlock the car."
"No, you bloody listen to me!" Kenny shouts, catching me off guard. He unbuckles his seatbelt then, "I am SICK of your arguing! We are doing this my way. The only reason you're here is because I allowed you to be— grateful, d'you understand that word? It means being bloody thankful for what you get!"
"I'm not going to be grateful about you killing people— my mother!" I shoot back, "I won't let you do it."
"Quinn,"
"I said I won't let you do it."
"You're acting like a child. Stop it." Kenny scolds.
"Stop talking to me like that! You don't own me, and you never did!" I snap. "You act like I'm a part of you. I don't know you."
"What does that mean? What are you implying?" Kenny shoots back, a bitter tone residing in his voice.
"You don't know me. You don't know how to handle me. If you could just see yourself from my eyes you'd understand the pain—"
"You don't know what PAIN is!" Kenny shouts, slamming his fist onto the middle console, "I am NOT abusing you. I have done NOTHING but the BEST for you."
I stare him down, hatred filling my eyes, Nothing but the best? "YOU MADE ME KILL MY FRIENDS! I KILLED THEM, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" My lip quivers, "All of the people I've cared about are dead because of you. I feel this way because of you. I almost DIED because of you." My breath quickens, "All of this is because of you! This is all your fault!"
Kenny pauses. A flicker. A flicker of pain and bewilderment. "You're not thinking straight. I will take you home—"
"You're not taking me anywhere." I grimace, blinking away the tears that blur my vision.
"Whether you like it or not, I am going into that house." Kenny's tone is dark, threatening.
"Don't you fucking dare."
"Are you daft? How're you going to stop me?" Kenny's eyes widen in a menacing way, "Get in my way. Try it."
"If I scream, someone'll hear me. They'll call the police." I remark, maintaining what is left of the power I have, "The police will take you away." It comes out as a taunt, which I'm betting pisses Kenny off impossibly more.
"You want something to scream about? I can make that happen." Kenny challenges, a wild flicker passing through his wide hazel eyes.
It is hard to ignore the shiver in my spine, but I stand my ground. "Please. Is that another promise you're willing to break? Or are you going to be true to your word this time?" I glance down at my healed leg.
"Promises have no meaning! You're acting like we're children. This isn't a game, this is fucking reality. You chose to be immature and believed me." Kenny leans forward, making me press my back onto the passenger seat door, "I don't want to hurt you, but if it'll get you out of my way," I grimace as he reaches into the back seat, "I wouldn't be opposed—"
As soon as I see the hilt of the knife, I leap to take it from him. Because I caught him off guard, stealing the blade is an easy task— the next, though..
I turn the knife so the hilt is facing Kenny and swing. A crack sounds.
Hope.
"Quinn, you put that DOWN." Kenny growls, attempting to reach forward.
I swing back again. Nothing.
FUCK THIS OLD CAR! BREAK, YOU SHIT!
"VALENTINE!" At his words, I swing back once more with all of the might I can muster.
A shatter. Glass pours onto my back and the concrete path outside of the car.
"Don't you dare move." Kenny snaps.
I pause, and so does he. We stare at each other, processing the moment. A low snicker draws from my mouth involuntarily.
"Fuck you." I hiss before turning and trying to crawl through the window. The window frame mixed with the glass that digs into my stomach, the half-healed gash, makes me cry out in pain.
Kenny's hands fly to my ankles, trying to pull me back. Even with his strength, It is too late and I am too far out, so I am able to push myself away from him. I plop onto the path with a huff, furrowing my brows in annoyance at the shards of glass that prick my palms. I scramble to my feet, stepping back away from Kenny's car.
"Don't you fucking move."
I shake my head at him, taking two more steps away.
"You're all I have. You can't leave me." Kenny's voice becomes desperate as he puts on a childishly innocent front.
Yeah, absolutely not. Fuck that.
I turn, beginning to jog to my house.
"DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! GET BACK HERE!" He screams, forgetting his facade in an instant.
I immediately quicken my pace to a run, dashing to my house as if my life depends on it.
Of course, it does.
I slam my hand onto the doorknob— The door is unlocked, giving me a jolt of anxiety as I slam the door behind me. She never remembers to lock the door.
When I shut the door behind me, I locked it. That's for sure.
"Who's there?" A hoarse feminine voice sounds from the living room.
"Mom?" I call out, stepping further into my home.
"Quinn?" My mother replies, shooting up in her seat, "Where the fuck were you? Damn police have been up my ass for weeks!"
"We don't have the time to argue, where's your phone?" I babble frantically, scanning the dirty room.
It is terribly littered with liquor bottles, boxes of food, and random trash I don't care to identify.
God, the state of this place.
"You don't need the damn phone! Get your ass over here!" My mom scowls, standing up on wobbly legs.
"We don't have time— there's a man outside, he's been keeping me and—"
"You were just trying to run away from me, weren't you? What's with that damn mask?" Of all times to be drunk, she has to be now? Fuck. Fuck!
"Please! Please, where's the phone?—"
A crash sounds from the kitchen.
"WHERE'S THE PHONE?" I scream. Hiding won't do anything— he knows, he always knows.
The words and situation finally seem to click in my mom's head, so she begins to search the couch. I aid the search, throwing around piles of trash and clothing frantically.
More thuds and crashes sound from the hallway, nearing our location.
"Fuck! Mom, where did you put the phone?" I yelp, frustratedly striking the wooden floor with a closed fist.
"Here!" She responds, tossing the phone my way. A relieved rush flows through me as I catch it.
Quicker than I ever have before, I dial the number that should have been called in the first place.
911.
A scream, then a thud. I slowly turn to look behind me.
My mother, adorned with an axe mark in her forehead, is bleeding out on the floor.
An inhumane whine comes from her mouth as her final breaths are stolen from her. "Ba-...by?—"
I cover my mouth, stifling a yelp as I scramble to my feet.
"911, what's your emergency?"